My Maureen
by No Other Way
Summary: Pre-RENT. The story of how Joanne and Maureen met. Joanne's POV. "Perhaps that is why my usually rational mind got completely paralyzed by the very sight of this Maureen. It wasn't so much her beauty as it was the seductive way in which she performed every movement of her body, her flirtatious smiles that caused my heart to skip a beat every now and then, and her enviable..."
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: So, this is my first fanfic ever. Yes, I'm a fanfic virgin! And kind of new to this whole community. But I'm a self-proclaimed complete MoJo-lover, and of course a mad Rent-head, so I decided to write a story about how the two met. I hope you guys like it (but I won't blame you for not doing so). And as I wrote this story I realised just how much my English needs some brushing up to put it mildly, so any kind of constructive criticism is more than welcome! And thank you for taking the time to read my scribblings. I'll keep up the story if anyone happens to like it. And if so, ratings will definitely change. **

**Oh, and I do not own any of these characters. They belong to the late, great Jonathan Larson. **

My Maureen

I let out a relieved sigh and closed my eyes for a few seconds in an attempt to let out all the stress, I'd built up throughout the last couple of days as I landed in my well-known armchair and allowed my head to rest on the back of the chair. I stayed like that for a couple of minutes before I slowly opened my eyes and took a quick glance around the large, bright living room, that always had some success in sending chills down my spine and nauseating me a little, trying to remember the last time I'd given myself the chance to just sit down and relax, not having what seemed like a million work-related thoughts bothering my mind: Being a lawyer, and particularly a New York-lawyer, left very little time to anything but work, and although I'd gotten somewhat used to my lack of a social life through the years, I couldn't help but feel a little numb everytime these thoughts crossed my mind.

I got up from the comfort of my armchair, trying to clear my head, suddenly getting a feeling of being a wild animal trapped inside a cage, and paced quickly across my huge living room as I involuntarily took in the revolting coherency and perfection of everything in here: Every single piece of furniture was in the exact place of perfection, its colors matching the off-white shade of every wall in every room of my Upper West Side-apartment, which had always sickened me a little, but now it seemed to overwhelm me. I grapped my coat from the closet in the hallway, practically threw it on me and let myself out of the apartment just as I heard the phone ring from behind the door. I stood still for a moment, my key still well placed in the keyhole, paralyzed by the sudden noise. I then pulled out the key and ran frantically down the stairs as if I was being chased by some kind of maniac. Taking the last three steps in a single jump, I reached the bottom of the stairs and started walking quickly towards the door. The second I opened it, a cool breeze hit my face, and for the very first time that day I felt... alive. Once outside I took a deep breath and then decided to go for a stroll through Central Park, so I started walking down the street to my right, discretely observing the everyday humdrum of New York City on a Thursday afternoon in the middle of November. A few construction workers applied a subtle scent of hot metal to the cool air on a nearby construction site to my left, and I took in a deep breath feeling somehow relaxed by this sensory exploration; the noise of the city, people passing me by in a quick pace, all appearing to be in a hurry not paying any attention whatsoever to one another, and the underlying feeling of maybe not being all alone in this world at last brought a slight sense of subtle joy to my mind.

After a few minutes walk I started to feel myself unwind a little, having reached the nearest entrance of the park. I steered immediately towards my well-known spot consisting of a somewhat remote bench right underneath a tremendous appletree, which during the summer time would flourish majestically above the rest of the nearby trees in the park, but now seemed to be taking a well-earned rest until next spring.

The bench seemed unoccuppied, so I quickened my pace and sat down on the nearest side of it just as I realised that I wasn't the only one who'd gotten that idea: A woman whom I'd noticed had been walking from the other side of the path in the very same direction as me, now stood right beside me with a puzzled look on her face. Trying somehow to portray the same sense of confusion, I looked expectantly up into her eyes, which caused the look on my face to change drastically from mild confusion to complete awe: Her piercing dark eyes looked at me, now with a mixture of surprise and thrill, giving me the perception that if she wanted, her eyes could penetrate my soul. Her long dark curls seemed to frame her face in a way that at first appeared as if it would have taken her ages to construct, but through closer inspection I realised the completely unintended chaos of it. However, the most striking thing about her were her remarkable facial features: Her strong cheekbones emphasizing her startlingly full, red lips that at the moment were curled into an apologetic, yet seemingly inviting smile, was the only thing about her that kept her from being categorized as what you might percieve as conventionally beautiful. Nevertheless, they provided her with a certain, almost caricaturistic, femininity that I wasn't quite able to fathom at first.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry," she burst out, still captivating me entirely with the intensity of her eyes. "I didn't realise this seat was taken." Her smile grew significantly larger once she'd finished her sentence, and it forced me to snap out of my trance in order to endure at least an attempt at a decent reply.

"Oh... Uhm, not at all," was all I managed to let out, trying in vain to keep the tone of my voice at its usual pitch, instead of the octave it had now risen. "Go right ahead," I then mumbled, gesturing with my arms the availability of the seat next to me in a little too theatrical manner, making a note in my mind not to act like a complete idiot next time I tried expressing myself verbally to this stranger of a woman.

"Great! Well, then I'd better strike while the offer still stands," she joked, sliding down next to me, not so close that we'd have to touch one another, but still, not at the far end of the bench like any normal New Yorker would. This sudden and somewhat unexpected motion caused me to investigate her closer: Her legs were covered in a skin-tight pair of leather pants, showing off her slim figure, ending in a set of high heeled boots. On the top, maybe in order to fulfill the look of provocative rock-chick, she wore a thin leather jacket, which she inspite of the frequent, cold November winds had decided to leave open in order for everyone else to get a glimpse of the tank-top she wore inside, showing off just a hint of her cleavage and managing, I realised through closer investigation, to let me know that she wasn't wearing a bra. I caught myself staring at this construction, swallowed hard and decided that I had to start up a conversation trying to cover up the many stolen looks I'd already sent her during the last few minutes.

"Uhm, nice weather, huh?" I almost yelled out in an attempt to keep my voice at a level suitable for people with at least approximately normal hearing, wanting to shove my foot so far down my throat, I'd choke on it, the minute I finished my pathetic attempt at an almost coherent sentence. I raised my glance from a point beetween my own feet and managed to built up the courage to meet her eyes once again.

"Yeah, I guess it is," she stated, keeping up her tantalizing smile. Her voice indicating a sense of carefree bliss, letting me know that she was aware of how her presence was the main reason for my sudden discomfort. Somehow, it encouraged me to keep up what could hardly be defined as a conversation. But as I opened my mouth and took in a shallow breath preparing myself for how I was gonna try to make up for the last few sentences I'd already spat out at her, she interrupted me.

"I'm Maureen, by the way," she said, confidence written all over her face, reaching out a slender hand with almost every finger ringed.

"Joanne," I replied, finally being able to recognize my own collected business-like self, as I reached out for her hand as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: First of all, thank you so much for the kind reviews, it just made my day. I struggled a lot with this chapter, and not being the most creative person in the world, I'm sorry if it seems kind of slow. But I'm hoping to make some progress in the story very soon. And once again, thank you for taking the time to read this, I really appreciate it! And any kind of constructive criticism is still very welcome. **

My Maureen

I've always appreciated the abundant anonymity a city like New York provides you with; blending in is never much of a challenge in a city consisting of 8 million people. However, the consequences of this apathetic mentality rooted deeply in every New Yorker, is a frequent feeling of overwhelming loneliness: Even though you're constantly surrounded by millions of people, finding sincerity and openness in another person is a rare event. And even more seldom is when this person finds you.

Perhaps that is why my usually rational mind got completely paralyzed by the very sight of this Maureen. It wasn't so much her beauty as it was the seductive way in which she performed every movement of her body, her flirtatious smiles that caused my heart to skip a beat every now and then, and her enviable confidence with which she effortlessly spoke to me, that captivated me entirely. What she desired my acquaintance for was beyond my comprehension.

I sent her a nervous grin, trying to appear at least slightly appealing, as we finished our tremendously awkward handshake, which was causing my otherwise freezing hand to moisten noticeably.

"So... Hope you don't mind me asking, but how did you end up here? I mean... on this bench?" The question startled me a bit as I heard the words escape my mouth. "That didn't come out right," I hurriedly stated, giving her an apologetic smile. Apparently, still not being able to initiate even a marginally comprehensive conversation, I observed her expectantly as she tried to suppress a sympathetic chuckle.

"Well, I kind of had a fight with my boyfriend," she explained, rolling her eyes and shook her head lightly at the thought of it. My heart sank a little at the word _boyfriend_, though I wasn't quite sure why. "And after what he tends to describe as an _overly dramatic scene_ I stormed out of our apartment, and then I didn't really know where else to go." She shrugged, and her gaze fell to the ground for a moment, supposedly absorbed in thoughts of what I'd just been told, before she met my concerned glare, which caused a reaffirming smile to cross her lips.

"I'm sorry about that," I said, deciding that her complete openness towards me was an indicator that I was allowed to urge slightly more exhaustive questions. On this account I hesitantly asked: "What was the fight about?"

"Oh, I hardly even know anymore. There's been so many," she contemplated, seemingly thrilled about my rather obvious curiosity. "We don't even really need a reason to fight anymore. I just think we're too different, him and I, and recently that's become more and more clear to both of us. I mean, I feel really sorry for our roommate, Roger. Having to listen to the two of us every fucking day," she mused, caught up in her own thoughts.

I unsuccessfully tried to stifle a smile, not realizing my failure until she looked up at me and giggled knowingly.

"Sounds like the three of you know how to have fun," I said, profoundly joyful to finally see the conversation making som kind of progress.

"Yeah, we used to be five people living together: Me, Roger, Collins, Benny and then Mark, you know, my boyfriend. But then Benny married this Allison girl whom none of us really liked, and Collins went to MIT to study... some kind of computer age philosophy-thing, I think it was. I don't know, he's the coolest guy in the world, you see, but once he gets started talking about Sartre or Nietzsche, I just shut down." She snickered a little at her own words once she was done talking, creating enough time for me to respond.

"Yeah, I know a few of those people as well. Corporate law compels you to deal with the strangest people sometimes," I replied.

"Wait! You're a lawyer?" She burst out in utter excitement, taking me completey by surprise.

"Well, yeah... why?" I retorted, not making any effort to hide my confusion at her sudden outburst.

"Uhm, no reason. I just... didn't see it coming," she replied quickly once she saw the confounded look on my face. "Uhm, this may seem like a strange question coming from a complete stranger like me, but do you wanna go get a drink or something?"

Once again I found myself completely astounded by her unexpectedly avid behavior. I looked at her with an odd mixture of thrill and disbelief for a few moments, trying somehow to determine her purpose for being so dauntingly straight forward. As I did so, her brilliant smile seemed to fade slightly in order to turn into a ravishingly pleading pout. Not being able to resist her begging, I instinctively knew that I had to at least try to bring back the alluring smile on her face.

"Uhm, sure... You do know that it's..." I hurriedly replied, looking down at the Rolex watch, which my father had insisted upon buying for me for my first trial. "... about 3 pm, right?" I asked, knowing that neither of us probably cared about that slight detail at all.

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask you to go and get completely shitfaced with me within the next half hour," she blissfully stated, instantly sending me the enticing smile I'd desired. Doing so, she almost jumped up from the bench, somehow managing to remain as charmingly captivating in her every movement as she'd been all along, gesturing to me that I should follow her lead.

I got to my feet as a result of her less than subtle implications, carefully looking downwards in order to hide my amusement at her untroubled abruptness. "Well, you never know what kind of crazy, disturbed people wander these grounds. I've seen a lot of weirdos through the years," I teased.

Maureen looked at me, a devious smile on her lips. "And telling me the time is gonna keep me from mugging you down a creepy back alley?"

"Yeah, that and then the fact that I took a two-hour self defense class three years ago," I joked, which allowed me to witness her charmingly lighthearted laugh for the first time.

We stood like that, nailed to the spot, gawkily smiling to one another for a few seconds, until I realised that none of us really knew where to go. "Uhm, so, where do you wanna go?" I asked her, hoping that my embarrasingly inadequate knowledge of nearby suitable places wouldn't be revealed.

"Well, to be honest, most of my preferences probably won't do," she answered. "Why don't we just walk that way and see what we can find?" She suggested, nodding towards the exit of the park, which allowed her vast, dark curls to gracefully jump up and down, bathing playfully in the bright sunlight.

"Sounds like a plan," I said, while I attempted not to stare too obviously at her as we coherently started walking in the same direction.


End file.
